


The Makings of a Terribly Awkward Brunch

by gallifreyanlibertea



Series: OTP "Drabble" Challenge [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Arthur wanted to find the perfect way to introduce his boyfriend to his parents. However, the meeting was not quite as planned.





	The Makings of a Terribly Awkward Brunch

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a dialogue prompt- “I really would’ve liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town.” - “I really would’ve liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen.”
> 
> Warnings: gross Alfred, a lot of cursing, mortification

Arthur’s parents didn’t suspect a thing, and Arthur wanted to keep it that way. Yes, he wanted to keep it that way until he’d managed to make everything perfect. Arthur would tell them when the time was right, when he’d made perfectly certain his parents had gotten the perfect impression of Alfred. He would tell them then. That had been the plan.

It was a plan he had  _not_  planned to execute that morning, when he’d been rudely awakened to the sounds of incessant knocking- “Alfred, love. Alfred. Alfred  _you big lug_ , go see who’s at the-  _Alfred!_ Get-  _get up!”_

Despite the shoving and cursing- Alfred replied with a swat and a groan,  _“fuck off, babe”_ \- it became apparent that Alfred was  _not_ getting up. Arthur left the warm comfort of the bedsheets and Alfred’s arms, stomping to the front door to squint through the peephole.

_Shit._

After kicking (Alfred’s) stray clothes into the closet-  _shit!_ \- shoving (Alfred’s) trash under the couch-  _fuck, fuck, fuck_ \- and checking the mirror to see if he was presentable-  _oh, no_ \- after a quick change of clothes to hide (Alfred’s) hickeys, he opened the front door to his parents.

“M- mum! Dad! Wow… um, this is a surprise!”

And he hoped to god Alfred stayed fast asleep until he sorted everything out.

“Did we catch you at a bad time?” Mrs. Kirkland said, brows furrowed.

“Not at all, come in!” Arthur lied, because  _yes, it was a_ bloody _bad time!_  “I wasn’t expecting you over, though. Will you give me a moment to get cleaned up?”

Mr. Kirkland raised a brow, “Sorry to inconvenience you, Arthur, we were in town and thought it would be alright if we came to visit this late in the morning. You still get up at eight, don’t you?”

“Um… not anymore, no.” Yes, Arthur supposed he would still be getting up at eight to fix himself a nice breakfast and do other productive things if he’d never met Alfred Jones.

He had changed quite a bit since he’d met lazy, meat-headed, slept-until-noon Alfred Jones, formerly Arthur’s roommate.

Arthur’s parents had been far from impressed when they’d first met Alfred, when they’d helped Arthur move into the shared apartment to find Alfred, as unkempt as if he’d rolled out of bed the second before, opening the door to great them- “Hey! Y’all must be the Kirklands!”

The ‘Kirklands’, including Arthur, had not been fond of the idea of Arthur sharing an apartment with an American slob. However, they were fond of the slob’s half-brother, Matthew, who’d been nothing but a kind friend to Arthur.

Arthur had gone to him after being ‘indirected’ incessantly by his parents asking if he was going to “live with them forever”, and, well, it’s not as if Arthur had enough money to buy himself a nice house in the suburbs. Matthew had suggested the cheap living arrangement, and it would’ve been rude to refuse so late in the agreement. Arthur knew Matthew loved his brother.

So Arthur had kissed his parents goodbye and grudgingly unpacked in the apartment, unaware that he would end up doing more than just  _slightly_ admire those slight, tanned muscles as Alfred helped move Arthur’s boxes to his room.

In seemingly no time, there Arthur was, completely and utterly smitten. There was no denying or changing it, so he knew he would have to tell his parents soon.

Of course, he’d hoped that would be after he’d forced Alfred to wear a suit and comb his hair, after taking his parents to a brunch and introducing them to the new and improved Alfred Jones. He’d hoped they would see the Alfred that Arthur had fallen in love with, the one that told funny little jokes and charmed his mother with that dimpled smile-  _you can’t be Arthur’s mother, Mrs. Kirkland, I could’ve sworn you were his elder sister, don’t lie to me!_

But  _of course,_  according to Arthur’s luck, the meeting took place after he’d settled his parents at the dining table. Arthur rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth, to wash his face. He’d peeked in their shared bedroom (they’d converted Arthur’s separate one into a gym where Arthur could shamelessly watch Alfred build that delicious muscle of his) to find Alfred fast asleep, drooling on his pillow.

So Arthur had walked back outside with a plastic smile, chatting his parents up on the usual. The weather, Arthur’s job-

“So, are you still single, love?” Mrs. Kirkland had asked, hands clasped nervously at her lap with that maternal worry of hers, “Because we met this wonderful couple with a son that-”

“Actually, mum.” Arthur cleared his throat. “I’m…”

Yes, this could be the time, if Arthur played his cards right. He would wake Alfred up and tell him to get dressed, and they could go to brunch, today. There would be no more secret-keeping. There would be no more of Alfred whining, “Why can’t we just post this picture? We look so cute!”

“No one can know, Alfred,” Arthur would snap. He would then sigh, taking Alfred’s pouting face into his hands, kissing those full lips. “Not until my parents know first.”

So Arthur straightened up, “I’m actually in a relationship right now. With-”

Arthur hadn’t needed to finish his sentence when Alfred emerged into sight in the kitchen, directly across from their bedroom door. Arthur smiled, poised to beckon him over, “Speak of the devil!”

That was before Alfred stepped out from behind the kitchen counter, scratching his-

_Oh my god._  Arthur’s hands flew to cup his mouth, his inhale sharp.

“G’mornin’, babe.” Alfred had said. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “Hehe, look who’s happy to see y-”

_“Alfred, get back inside!”_ Arthur had practically screeched, jumping up from his place sitting on a dining table chair, but Alfred hadn’t needed the incentive when his eyes had settled on Arthur’s red-faced parents. He’d let out an embarrassing squeal, scrambling to cover himself. He ran into the bedroom, letting the door shut behind him with a thud loud enough to startle the biscuit that Mr. Kirkland had been nibbling right out of his hand.

Arthur didn’t look at his parents. He couldn’t. He never again would, he decided. He would remove himself from the family. He would change his identity. He would move to a different continent and change his number.

He trained his eyes on the ground. “Excuse me for one moment, please.”

And he walked into the bedroom to find Alfred slipping on his boxers, cheeks flushed a red that looked almost as mortified as Arthur felt.

_Almost._

“I really would’ve liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town.” Alfred hissed. He then buried his face in his hands, “Oh god, I-”

“I really would’ve liked it if you  _put underwear on before coming into the kitchen.”_ Was Arthur’s seething response. He lowered his voice, recalling that the walls were thin. “So help me, Alfred Jones, you _idiot-”_

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault!” Alfred said, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. He put his glasses on. “I could barely see and it’s not like you gave me a heads up!”

Arthur swallowed his next, possibly unkind, words when Alfred bit his lip after a moment of silence, his chest heaving with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I-”

Arthur shook his head, interrupting Alfred with a squeeze on his shoulder. 

“No, it’s not your fault, love,” He muttered. “I didn’t know either. They just showed up out of the blue.”

“What do we do?”

Arthur supposed his meeting hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but he would have to improvise. There was no way to back out of it now.

After all, if his goal had been to introduce his parents to the Alfred he’d fallen in love with, it would be inaccurate to leave out the lewd, filthy aspect of his lover that told Arthur it was love in the first place.

It was easy to date the clean-shaven Alfred that smelled of cologne and had the body of a Greek god. It was only when Arthur hadn’t minded the stale morning kisses, when he’d preferred laying in bed with Alfred flopped heavily over him to his usual morning routine, when he hadn’t broken up with Alfred on the spot when he’d caught him clipping his toenails  _on the_ bloody _couch and not in the bathroom, ugh!_ \- it was only then that Arthur knew.

He knew when Alfred started taking out the trash without being asked. He knew when Alfred attempted to help Arthur on his cleaning sprees. He knew when Alfred would make an effort for  _him._

And damn it all to hell, Alfred was a mess, but Arthur loved him. 

If anything, the experience would tell his parents just how much he was willing to put up with, just how much he valued his relationship. 

Arthur tugged Alfred in for a kiss. He then turned to open the bedroom door with a newfound energy, leaving a confused Alfred in his wake.

“We get ready, love. I’m inviting my parents to brunch.”


End file.
